God of
by Sherlock River Hekate
Summary: Loki could be the God of many things. Which of these does his partner see him as? Based on something I read in the Loki: Agent of Asgard series.


The rain was battering the library windows, creating a soothing soundtrack to my reading. Though the castle was draughty, I'd sat myself close enough to the fireplace that I wasn't feeling the cold. In my lap was a book, original tales and prophecies of Asgard. By the foot of my chair was another book, an old volume from Midgard detailing the triumphs of the Norse gods and the author's Viking ancestors. It was interesting to compare the figures in the book, to the tales in the Asgardian tome and again to the people themselves.  
As lost in thought as I was, I didn't hear the heavy library door open or the booted footsteps as someone approached.  
"Anything interesting?" I heard from behind me, making me jump.  
I looked up to see the dark haired prince reading over my shoulder, one hand next to my elbow on the arm of the chair. His hair was messy and damp, curling a little as it dried.  
"A few mistakes in this one," I pointed to the book on the floor. "And some strange prophecies in here."  
Loki nodded thoughtfully, reading the words on the page I had open.  
"Oh you are reading about me!"He said gleefully.  
I smiled at him. "I've been reading a lot about you. You feature rather predominantly in everyone's works. I especially liked that one about the origin of the bifrost."  
At that the God of mischief paled and then turned bright red.  
"That's not how it really happened," he muttered. "I wouldn't. Not with… And not for that."  
I put the book down and turned in my chair to face him.  
"As much as you are the God of mischief, I didn't believe that particular story." I informed him.  
He leant down to kiss the top of my head. "Thank you, my heart."  
I rolled my eyes. "God of lies and the Silvertongue, now those I will definitely agree with."

Loki moved from behind my chair to next to the fireplace. He stood facing me with his back to the fire. In the flickering light I could see his clothing was wet and he had his hands behind his back, no doubt trying to warm them.  
"So, what was your favourite story?" he asked curiously.  
"Wow, there was so many. How many times did you end up in a scrape because you followed Thor?"  
Loki took a step away from the fire and moved his hands to his side. His head was tipped to the side just a bit, a habit he had when he was in thought.  
"Most of them, I believe," he eventually said with a wry smile.  
I shook my head, a small smile on my lips. "I would guess then that it is the crown prince's fault that you were dripping on the carpet just a moment ago as well?"  
The dark haired prince snorted before replying. "You would be correct. He, Lady Sif and the warriors three went hunting in the forest."  
"And you went along to make sure no harm befell them?" I chuckled.  
Loki smirked at me. "Of course. Who would I be if I abandoned my brother and friends in their hour of need?"  
"More like what sort of God of mischief would you be if you didn't follow and laugh at their minor mishaps." I replied.  
He tipped his head in acknowledgement.  
I stood and made my way next to him by the fireplace. He smiled gently at me and took my hand in his now warm one.  
The sky was dark now, the little light that had been filtering through the rain clouds was now gone. The library was almost dark but for the candles scattered about and the two fireplaces warming the large room. The rain was still falling, a constant rhythm against the windows punctuated occasionally by the rolling thunder or the crackle of a log in the fireplace.  
As another roll of thunder sounded I had a thought.  
"You were in the forest with the God of thunder. How did you end up caught in the rain?"  
"Now that, my dear, is quite the story." Loki's green eyes twinkled.  
In response I made myself comfortable by the fire and settled in for the story.

It was later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, that Loki remembered what he had asked me in the library.  
"You know, you never did tell me which of my tales was your favourite." He pointed out.  
There was one story that stood out to me more than the others, one that was consistent between the Norse myths and the tales of Asgard. Coincidentally, it was also the only one I found to fully agree with the Loki that I knew.  
"The one that detailed you as the God of stories," I told him. "Because that's what everything is, your mischief, your tricks and the silver tongue, all of it. It's all used to make stories, and you do tell the best stories."  
Loki's smile was soft and sincere as he just looked at me for a few moments. Then he moved to where I was and wrapped me in a hug.  
"Thank you," he whispered into my hair.


End file.
